


Vodka Slurpees and Freedom

by Lemon (lemon_sprinkles)



Series: Downtown Eastside [9]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Best Friends, Downtown Eastside, Friendship, Gang AU, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_sprinkles/pseuds/Lemon
Summary: After a six-month prison stint, Shepard meets with Jack on Kitsilano Beach where they plot out an escape from their lives.Art by permafr0st on tumblr~





	Vodka Slurpees and Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Written for commander-hot-pants a year or so ago. I couldn't resist the opportunity to write further about Shepard and Jacks' relationship in the Downtown Eastside universe! 
> 
> Set a few years before the events of Downtown Eastside!

 “Do you ever think about getting out of here?”

 Jack arched her back and stood high up on her toes, head rolling back and arms high above her head. The setting sun danced a pretty pattern across the oceans crests and dips, and Shepard watched droplets of water drip steadily from Jack’s messy hair.

 She’d gone swimming; ripped her shirt and bra off and slipped right into the biggest wave she could find with her shorts still on. It was nearing the end of summer and the ocean was cold and silty, but that didn’t stop her. Nothing stopped Jack—not even the crush of the ocean’s waves.

 Shepard just watched from his perch on the beach, enjoying the feeling of the wind on his cheeks and the scent of salt and green in the air. Holding on to his ‘root beer’ bottle, he tossed back the lager inside and drank steadily, having missed the taste of cheap beer. It was lukewarm by the time Jack came back to him, soaked to the bone and shivering despite her best efforts. She took her shirt back but made no move to put it on, either because she genuinely didn’t want to, or was trying to impress Shepard by pretending she wasn’t cold.

 The latter was probably the case, but Shepard knew better than to say anything.

 “I think about it every damn day,” he said, passing her a Slurpee cup with watermelon slush and a healthy dose of vodka inside.

 She dropped her hands and fell down beside Shepard on the sand, grabbing the drink with a grunt of thanks.

 “Where do you wanna go?” she asked, sipping back a healthy dose of her Slurpee. Most of her makeup had come off, but her sticky lipstick refused to budge.

 Shepard shrugged and burrowed his toes into the sand. “I dunno… somewhere not here. I thought it would be neat to go to the Grand Canyon someday.”

 Jack snorted. “Really?”

 “Yeah. Why? You got a problem with that?” he asked, frowning.

 Jack just laughed and nudged him with her elbow. “What the fuck are you going to do at the Grand Canyon?”

 “I just want to get away from all of these fucking cities,” he said, a tad defensive. “We’re surrounded by all of this fucking shit twenty-four seven—the sounds of emergency vehicles, of people over-dosing on the streets, of people yelling and fighting and… shit. It’s loud. All the time. And I want to… to get away from it sometimes.”

 Thoughts of cold steel wrapped around his wrists and the overwhelming sound of steel bars slamming shut shot through his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about the uncomfortable rub of rough fabric against the back of his neck, the smell of bleach and shit, the taste of processed food that just wouldn’t go _down_. He couldn’t relax, the memories of having to look over his shoulder in case someone from _their_ group walked in when he wasn’t paying attention still fresh in his mind. Having to be on guard twenty-four seven had been his life for the last six months while the walls closed in and the sunlight barely touched his skin.

 Never fucking again.

 He breathed hard through his nose. Slowing down, he continued. “I wanna be completely free. And it doesn’t have to be the Grand Canyon—shit it doesn’t even have to be out of BC. I just… I want some peace and quiet. Some place I can get some privacy and not smell the sewers and feel the grime under my nails.”

 Shepard didn’t know where this openness had come from—didn’t know when he’d decided to lower his walls. He’d blame the beer.

 Jack’s face sobered then, and she took a long drink through her pink straw, attention turning to the ocean.

 “Yeah… I guess I can see that now,” she said quietly.

 They sat in silence for a little longer, Shepard finishing off his drink. Shoving the bottom into the sand, he drew his knees up and hooked his arms around them.

“Where would you go?” he asked after a time.

 “Uh… damn, I don’t know. Maybe down to LA or New York.”

 “Yeah?”

 Jack nodded and put her shirt back on, covering up as the sun slipped further below the horizon. He could feel her shaking slightly next to him, and casually wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in close. She didn’t resist and simply rested her head on his shoulder, a small breath of relief escaping.

 “I’ve always wanted to stand in the middle of Hollywood—right up in those fancy neighborhoods—and just messy the place up, you know? Decrease the property value by stepping on the grass or some shit. Glare at the yuppies in their Mercedes and make them clutch their purses closer to themselves.”

 Shepard laughed. That sounded like the perfect vacation to him.

 “And why New York?”

 She sighed and drank the last of her Slurpee, head still tilted to the side as she rested against him. “I always thought it looked cool in all the movies, you know? Like… no matter who you are, where you came from, everyone is still the same… everyone is just a small ant in this big fucking space. No one gives a shit if you’re the most important person in the world—you’re small time in New York… I kinda like that, you know?”

 “Yeah, I get that,” Shepard said.

 “Plus, they’ve got some fucking amazing tattoo artists over there. Maybe I’d waste all my cash on fucking sick tattoos and street vendor pretzels.”

 Shepard snorted. “Sounds like a plan. Maybe we could both get tattoos—matching ones or something.”

 Jack lifted her head to look at Shepard. She was close enough Shepard could smell the vodka on her breath and count the mascara clumps in her eyelashes.

 “Yeah? That’s be kinda cool. What tattoo did you have in mind?”

 “Haven’t thought about it.” He looked down at the omega tattoo on his hand next to his thumb. He’d gotten it right before he went in for protection. Jack had insisted, and Aria agreed.

 A warding symbol, in a way. A fucked up reminder to those around him that he was guarded by the patron fucking saint of the Eastside.

“Get my name tattooed on that tight ass of yours. Then everyone will know you’re my fucking bitch,” Jack said. She cackled, even as Shepard shoved her off to the side. She collapsed in the sand and continued to laugh, ignoring Shepard’s eye-roll.

 “Yeah, I can see having the word ‘bitch’ on my ass would go over real well.”

 Jack grunted and kicked Shepard in the leg.

 Sitting back up, she brushed her wet hair out of her face. Grains of sand clung to her skin, her cheek covered in the stuff, and Shepard reached out to brush it away. Jack tensed for a moment but then relaxed, eyes rolling despite the small smile on her lips.

 “You done babying me?” she asked when Shepard dropped his hand.

 “Yep.”

 “Good—because I did not miss that shit while you were locked up.”

 Shepard swallowed back the tension in his throat and pushed aside the memories. He wasn’t in there anymore. He was free—had been for a total of seven hours, sixteen minutes and three seconds.

 “But you did miss me,” he teased.

 Jack bit her bottom lip and looked away, head ducked as she fiddled with the strap of her discarded bra. “Yeah well… I only missed you because you cleaned the apartment. With you gone I had to pick up my own messes and that shit was annoying.”

 Shepard could tell she was deflecting. He knew all her ticks now—what she did when she was trying to hide her emotions. Her eyes were downcast, bottom lip between her teeth as she chewed away the lipstick.

 “I missed you, too,” he said, and he meant it.

 She smiled then, but it didn’t last long. She kept fiddling with her bra, bitten up nails working away at a piece of elastic.

 “Listen, Shep, I know I’ve said it before, but you shouldn’t have taken the fall for—”

 “It’s fine, Jack,” he said, interrupting. He knew she felt guilty—had heared the apologies and seen the strain in her mouth anytime she came to visit him. “I don’t regret it so you shouldn’t, either.”

 She sighed but nodded. “Yeah… well… if it happens again, I’ve got your back.”

 Shepard nodded and picked up his empty bottle. Tossing it down the hill, he watched it leave a twisted pattern across the sand. “This your way of saying you owe me one?”

 Jack didn’t respond; she just stood up and brushed herself off. Picking up her bra, she tossed it over her shoulder and extended her hand down to him.

 “Let’s go home, yeah?”

 Shepard took her hand. Standing, he brushed the sand off his pants, enjoying the feeling of it against the pads of his fingertips. It had been six months since he’d smelled the ocean and felt the grit of it under his hands. It felt good. 

 “I’m serious about the joint tattoos,” he said as they strolled down the bike path, shoulders gently bumping. “Not about your name, but joint tattoos… could be kinda cool.”

 “Hells yeah,” Jack said. “Maybe each other’s’ initials? I could get J.S. on my wrist and you’d get J.N.”

 Shepard smirked. “That’s kinda gay, Jack.”

 “Oh fuck off.”


End file.
